


Of Silence

by hystericalselcouth



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Comfort? What is that idk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, K bi, Mostly yamaguchi, idek man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 19:21:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9562982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hystericalselcouth/pseuds/hystericalselcouth
Summary: His breathing won't slow but he feels too tired to keep at it any longer. All he can do is twist his face to force tears, but none come. It gets worse and his chest aches, he really needs it to stop now.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Idk what im doing rn.  
> May be triggering for panic attacks...I guess? Yah, probably.

It was empty in the flat when yamaguchi felt it, the springing and stretching in his chest. The orange had spread in the sky at half past four and he wondered how far it would go this time, if he didnt want it to not run too far at all.

 It was two hours of rummaging through the third shelf of the fridge and then quelling the urge to throw up over the briefs on his desk, before the emptiness was gone with the creaking of the shoerack and the thud of Tsukishimas on the cracked bench.

He'd have to get that fixed before it gave out entirely.

Yamaguchi was not, he decided,  falling apart, as he turned on the tube lights in his room. For him, there was no gasping that came with his fast breathing and there was no trembling as his knees and elbows threatened to float away.

There was a silence that had grown between them sometime between college and spread as they became lawyer and executive. Words seemed too burdensome as the nights grew longer and days were nondescript on holiday calenders, so it was twenty minutes later when Tsukishima asks if he wants some of the curry he bought, and then twenty one minutes later when he returns to the living room at the shake of messy hair.

For once,  Yamaguchi wishes tuskishima would just come back and _see_.

  


  


Its almost three hours and yamaguchi simply cant anymore.  He has work to do but he's on his bed, staring at the side of his phone, blank because it took too long to move his fingers to the screen.

His breathing won't slow but he feels too tired to keep at it any longer. All he can do is twist his face to force tears, but none come. It gets worse and his chest aches, he really needs it to stop now.

Stumbling across the room and snapping the door open, he can't get himself to move further. This is when he wishes it was worse, with the gasping and trembling and tears and to get done with it in one go, and not this unnamable thing between everything and nothing that spreads itself over four hours in the evening. This pathetic vaccum somewhere in him that doesn't feel bad enough, but still happens and he wants it to stop.

There's a flask on the dining table and his fingers fumble with the lid for a while, left loose, chugging the warm tea clumsily. 

Slowly, the winter doesn't seem too overbearing and he returns to staring at paper, because he's got to try until its at least ten-thirty, right?

There's a silence in the house that doesn't change when they're home. Sometimes he thinks it's him, another inheritance, and that there will never be anything else. 

There's a silence when words aren't needed, when words will only drown the soft shuffling of blankets as Tsukishima fits his tall frame around trembling shoulders and rakes his fingers through a week's unwashed hair, the oudor of sweat and grime rubbing off on his fingers. Words would only drown the sobs which finally come as warm hands link through dry ones. Sometimes its yamaguchi and othertimes its tsukishima but there are words and then there are none and that's all they'll ever need.

**Author's Note:**

> Wtf am I doing again?


End file.
